April 29

My favorite day
is Friday night


I take of my shoes
and shed the workweek
outside my front door

I don't need to put that coat
of responsibility
until Monday morning

Saturday
I try to be lazy
but all the things
waiting inside my house pounce on me
in the morning hours
Laundry, sadly
will not do itself


Saturday evening
relax and read. 
recharge with a
meal and a laugh

sleep in on Sunday
ignore the bells
of the local church
which do not ring for me

My least favorite day
is Sunday night.

Someone always says something
about having to work in the morning
(sometimes it's  me
either way it's a total buzzkill)

Monday morning comes too early
and I am late again
no matter HOW early I get out of bed.

anatomy of a panic attack - April 24

Heart begins to flutter
then
POUND

Can't
breathe

( remember slow shallow breaths)


pulse races in your ears
can't think clearly

( imagine you are floating in a pool
sunshine gently
warming your face)

Heart hurts
Chest feels like a
giant hand
pressing down

( listen to the seagulls
skimming over the waves
calling to one another in
their rough voices)

Gasping for air
eyes closed
face in hands

(go to your "happy place")

Slowly, returning to what might be
considered normal
but the
taste of panic
remains on your tongue.

April 22

Ok, so I haven't written every day.  I did try!




You loved
the idea of her
the perfect creature
you crafted in your mind


Instead of
learning
about her dreams
or the depths
of who she was
you wasted your nights
creating your silver screen persona
your magazine poses
to show the world

Alone now
in the shadows of your room
you cannot fathom
how your glittering prize
managed to escape you
never realizing
that it's a bit
like holding sand
the tighter you grip
the more slips away
until you are left
with a small handful of grains
of beach glass
and regret

April 18 and 19

Ok.  I'm a day behind, but yesterday I was SO SICK, I could barely make it.  Thankfully I had some anti nausea meds and LOTS of ginger-ale,  Chris fed me a sandwich and I fell asleep.  I would STILL be asleep if I hadn't had twenty million things to do..


It's hard
when you are driving
not to look at the clouds
and appreciate the patterns


Spring days with bright
fluffy clouds
that are like angels dancing
or cars flying
or dogs chasing
something


In winter
I look at clouds
searching for thunderheads
and possible signs
of how much rain
we will get
when the clouds
release their load

But in Spring
the clouds
are welcome fairies
on the blue background
of the blue sky

April 17

I've been dreaming
of peacocks
tails trailing
majestically behind them
as they stroll
in a lazy
morning garden
I rarely see them
in my dream
with their feathers displayed
in that huge fan
that frames them
in photos
or paintings of peacocks
I see them
both in my dreams
and in real time
iridescent
blues and greens
with a smattering of purples
going about their business
in the early morning air.

April 16

Fire


Watching
a beloved building
be consumed by flame
everyone standing around it
the anxiety
of helplessness
churning in your stomach
Waiting
at first
for its rescue
by the miracle of
water
and firefighters
at last
wondering
what will remain

April 15

Sleep
they say
is overrated

I don't want to lie there
flipping stations
or trying to read a book
and reading the same sentence
over and
over and
over
until I realize it isn't making any sense
in my addled brain

I want sleep
without nightmares.
I long for dreams that
don't have the daily world
intruding on them
(last night's dream featured an argument-
which I won-
with Mike Pence)

I want really sweet dreams
or no dreams
and really sweet sleep

April 14

Sometimes
your brain goes numb
you search for
simile and
metaphor
and come up
empty

On those days
you need to
go out into the sunshine
watch the clouds
make shapes
coming apart
the way cotton candy did
when you were a child
You need to feel
the sunshine
warm the springtime
back into the earth

You need to forget about anything
but being
and the words
just may find a way
to assemble on the page
just like you knew they would

April 13

(Because suicide doesn't get rid of the pain, it just transfers it to someone else)



You put down the phone
after hearing those words
numb
is too poor a word to describe
the emptiness
followed by the explosion
of so many conflicting emotions
in your brain
and in your chest.

Breathe,
just try to breathe

Tears
may or may not make an appearance now
but will ambush you
sometime
at a later date
when you remember
a word
laughing and falling into each other with
knees too weak to stand
long nights
heads bent together in conversation
or mutual understanding
of the silence between you
now held only
in one memory

April 12

Breathing Lessons


Sometime ago
it seems
I had forgotten
how to breathe
I seem
always
to be gasping for air
choking on it
when I draw it in

I need to learn
how to breathe again
slowly
sip on it
gather it
not forcefully
but gently
drawing it to me
holding it
and letting it
go

April 11

When she left his house
for what she knew
would be the last time
she shook off the sweat of her fear
and blew away
the dandelion seeds
of the dream she was abandoning
hoping to create
a new world for herself
in which
peace of heart
and calm of spirit
were no longer
obscure concepts
but her daily
reality

April 10

The struggle is real






Tujunga

I am lucky
I think
to live in a place
where
wildlife still roams
where I can be
startled by a peacock
boldly strolling
down the boulevard
his magnificent tail
trailing resplendently
behind him
unconcerned with honking cars
and pedestrians

My heart thrills
at the rare site of a doe and her babies
in the Open Space
nestled beside the onramp
leading to downtown
where another world of bustle
awaits me

April 9

Morning
and I want to look out my window
and see what the day is like,
but my window
looks out on a building next door
where my car-obsessed neighbors
rev their motors
honk and curse each other.


One day
I might
look out on a soft garden
with birds
and butterflies
and ease into a day
of calm

but for now
the frantic pace of my neighbors
sets the tone.

April 8

Reading again
the brilliant delicate poetry
of Mary Oliver
I mourn all over
that I only discovered her
after she had gone
I mourn too
that reading her
I feel like I
should put away the sledge hammer of my
own  poor needlework
and go out in the sunshine
and dance

April 7

Harder than I thought.




Sometimes
the words of a perfect poem
come into my brain
at inopportune moments

In the shower
washing the dishes
Scrubbing the floor
drifting off to sleep

Foolishly
I repeat the perfect couplet to myself
"Ah  I will remember it"
but when it comes to placing them
in the correct order on the keyboard
they become
alphabet soup

April 6

hmmmmm


I want to write
about  flowers
or birds
or cute little forest-y animals

But all I have
is morning blues,
coffee
and trying to muster the energy I need
to get ANYTHING done.


Closing my eyes
any sort of clever verbal imagery
eludes me
I see only
the darkness behind my eyelids
and the random
faces that appear there sometimes.
I try the breathing trick
Put on my mask
and head out for the day.

April 5

Haiku


a heron flies on
currents above the river
lonely in the air



Ok, I know it's kind of a cop out and the traditional forms are NOT being observed  but it was a thought I had last night, driving home, watching this solo bird drift above the LA river in the rain.

April 4

Trying to think
of beautiful images

coming up empty

Art
is in the everyday but
I am having trouble seeing
that everything that is created
is some kind of art

I am overloaded
with numbers
and letters
and thing that should just go away.

By focusing on a small thing
and breathing through the day
I will find
my peaceful me
again.

April 3

Nostalgia
has been putting
her shiny pink glasses on my eyes again

I look back
to the day when I would wake
in my sunny Summer bedroom
after a night of untroubled sleep
the day would stretch her lazy arm out at me
beckoning ADVENTURE

Swimming in the local pool
riding our bikes
and stretching out on somebody's parents' lawn
we would lie on our backs
our bikes splayed out around us
we would guess the shapes in the clouds
and talk about a future
shaped by television shows
and the novels we were allowed to read

I think of that girl
and wonder
would she like the woman
that she has become.

Day two

I think my ability is dormant.




I keep thinking
about that line from The Waste Land
about how
April is the cruelest month

So far I have to agree

Where is the soft joy
that Spring used to bring
the reawakening of Nature
the promise of Summer

Busyness
Overtakes everything
I long to be able
to slow down
to sit on the beach
and just listen to the waves
to get out of the City for a while
to find my laughter again.

April 1- National Poetry month

I am going to do my BEST to write a poem a day this month.  Maybe I can get back into my groove.  Writing has always been my go-to.  I am just going to put my fingers on the keyboard and  GO



Morning comes too early
My brain tells my body

GET UP

But my body
Unwilling to leave
the soft warm comfort of my bedcovers
resists.

I think  about what needs to be done
and how little time I have to do it all
before I have to climb in my car
and join thousands of other cars
(Well maybe not thousands but it feels like it)
snaking down the long path
to downtown LA

and panic a little.

Breathe
I tell myself
It's just another morning
I leave a sleeping man
go downstairs
 make coffee
and try to write something
that makes me feel
more courageous
or content
or to get my brain back on track

It's not working this morning.